Alpha's Choice
by wiccafaith
Summary: AU from 1x12: Code Breaker. Stiles' dad catches Stiles and Peter in the parking garage with life changing consequences for all. Will be slash  Peter/Stiles .
1. Loss

This is it. This is the moment that Stiles decides what kind of a man he is going to be. A man, not a boy, no child could ever make this decision. The choice between his life and the life of another, of his father.

Peter almost got away, except his dad found them in the garage. The Sheriff, standing there with a deputy guarding the other entrance, his gun hand shaky because behind keen eyes his son's life is flashing before him and the Sheriff knows that he'll never forgive himself if he loses Stiles.

Stiles is having the same thought. His mom died when he was five, most days he doesn't even remember what she looked like yet he can still remember the smell of her perfume when she kissed him good night and the warm feeling inside him when she smiled at him. He only knows how to miss her, and he doesn't want to miss his dad.

"Your choice, Stiles," Peter reminds him, and the Sheriff angles his gun towards the man standing next to his son. For some reason the man is holding Stiles' arm near to his mouth, and the Sheriff doesn't know why but that fills him with dread.

"Dad... run, please just get out of here," Stiles begs breathlessly. He wants his dad to run, but knows that even if he does it is a pointless gesture. Peter is fast enough to snap Stiles' neck and chase after his dad killing them both, and that was after being shot by a useless bullet.

"You always do your best for those around you... even when they don't appreciate it. Like my nephew... and Scott," Peter mused out loud, unconcerned by the gun pointed at him.

"Oh god," Stiles gasped out as Peter's grip tightened around his arm.

"Tick tock goes the clock until Peter gets an answer," Peter sang out quite tunefully.

"Stiles, I need you to duck son," the Sheriff said loudly, "as soon as I pull the trigger, run for it."

In a panic Stiles moved so his body was shielding Peter's, not out of any desire to protect the murdering werewolf but because if his dad shot Peter with a regular bullet then Peter might decide to take revenge on his father. "Dad, please you don't understand what is happening. Just promise me you won't shoot," he begged.

The Sheriff's gun hand faltered. "Stiles? You'd better tell me what the Hell is going on or I'm going to have to come in there."

"No!" Stiles shouted, unconsciously stepping towards his father causing Peter to painfully pull him back towards him. Stiles was now back-to-chest with the psychopathic werewolf and there was nothing about that which was improving the situation.

"It's a pity you came when you did, Sheriff," Peter said.

"I'll bet," the Sheriff agreed dryly.

"I was going to leave, let your son go, at least until I'd dealt with my nephew and Scott. Of course, I always intended to come back for him. So much untapped potential... and he smells _divine_," Peter claimed, and licked a path from his white collar to his ear.

"Oh my god!" Stiles whispered, "what the hell are you doing," he whined, once again renewing his attempt to get away although with the strength of Peter's grip he could only squirm uselessly unless he wanted to risk breaking his own arm.

"Step the hell away from my son!" the Sheriff yelled, fear and disgust fuelling his anger.

Peter sighed, all amusement in the situation gone. These people were making him late. "Okay, here's what's going to happen-"

The next thing Stiles knew he was free, and Peter was next to his father sinking his elongated teeth into his neck. A scream (his father's) and then the Sheriff was on the floor and Peter was gone.


	2. The Wait

_Daddaddaddaddaddaddaddad!_ _Please be okay, please be okay pleasebe okay pleasebeokay_... Stiles didn't know if he was saying the words out loud all he knew was the desperate grief swelling in his chest. Even if his dad survived this, he'd be Peter's wolf.

Please be okay, please be okay...

Three days Stiles sat by his father's sickbed. 107 calls and texts were received and ignored in that stretch of time. Every second that ticked by convinced Stiles more and more that his father would never recover. It took less than twenty four hours for the bite to heal on Scott. Why was it taking so long? It was like torture.

Every time a well meaning nurse kicked him out of his father's room in order to encourage him to shower/eat/sleep he went to visit Lydia. The news was that her body was having some kind of allergic reaction to the bite, and Stiles was starting to wonder if either Lydia or his dad would ever wake up. Whether they would just wither away comatose in a hospital bed unaware of the trials and tribulations of those around them. In his darkest hours Stiles thought that maybe that would be better than what fate would have in store for him should he awaken a werewolf. Peter's werewolf.

Nearing dawn on the fourth day, his father woke. Immediately Stiles saw that he was no longer human. And for the first time in three days, he cried.

"What's going on, son?" His father asked him, and Stiles didn't have the energy to tell him. He still had eight days before the next full moon. He would need them to prepare his father. Instead all he did was drag the man close and envelope himself in his father's familiar scent which refused to be drowned out by the smell of hospital sanitizer.

"Let's go home," was all Stiles could bring himself to say. Five hours eleven minutes later and Sheriff Stilinski was finally discharged.

Once at home Stiles made his way around to checking his messages. 32 were from various officials, including the school and his father's work colleagues who were either questioning him about the night of the incident or asking after his father's health. 9 were from Jackson. 2 from Derek. The remaining 59 were from Scott, or Allison calling on behalf of Scott. The last 7 were hang ups. Most likely telemarketers. He deleted them all, and called Scott.

"Man, where have you been!" Scott asked.

"With my dad. He's fine, thanks for asking," Stiles replied sarcastically. He was not in the mood for Scott's teenage angst right now, but if he had real news then that was worth the hassle of the phone call. And of course he wanted to know if Scott was okay. Scott was his best friend. If anything bad were to happen to him... He breathed in deep. "Are you okay?"

"No, Stiles, I'm not okay. Nothing is okay. Peter is alive. Allison hates me. My life is over, Stiles," he whined and Stiles licked his lip and rolled his eyes.

"If Allison really loves you then she'll get over it, Scott. Peter being alive... that's a big problem. Like Mohamed sized problem. How come Derek and you didn't kill him? Did he kill Derek?" He asked.

"No, Derek is alive. He's still on Peter's side. I tried to tell him that Peter knew what he was doing when he killed Laura but he just said that I didn't understand what being a werewolf truly meant, and that I should learn my place in things," Scott repeated, confusion and worry bleeding through into his voice.

"Well that's crap," Stiles said.

"Yeah," Scott agreed. There was a pause. "Look, Stiles... I'm really sorry about your dad. Jackson told me he saw you when he was visiting Lydia and he'd been bitten. Is he... is he going to be okay?"

Stiles sighed. "No, Scott. He's alive but I don't think he'll ever be okay. Especially not when I tell him what happened. But man, I still don't even understand why he did it?"

"Peter?"

"Yeah. One minute he was about to walk away after I refused the bite, and then my dad showed up and it was all 'it's your choice Stiles' with a painful grip and then he was gone and my dad was on the floor with a werewolf sized bite in his neck. I thought he was going to die," he whispered.

"Stiles, he isn't dead, you haven't lost him and you aren't going to. Look, tomorrow I'll come around and help you tell your dad about werewolves. We'll get through this, Stiles. Promise," his best friend added, and Stiles felt a little less like his world was ending slowly but surely.

"Thanks," he said, and rang off.


	3. Surprises

3.

"So, are you sure you want to be here for this?" Stiles asked Scott as they hovered outside his front door.

"Definitely. Besides, without me he'll just think you're crazy," Scott said.

"Okay. Into battle we go," Stiles joked badly.

Stiles went inside, followed by Scott who froze on the threshold, a deep growl ripped from his throat. "What? What is it?" Stiles asked nervously.

"Stiles, is that you?" His dad called from the kitchen.

When Scott didn't reply Stiles ignored his friend and followed the sound of his dad's voice.

He paled.

At the kitchen table was his dad, sat calmly with a cup of coffee in front of him and Peter next to him. They both looked so casual, at ease with each other. It made bile rise in Stiles throat and he swallowed it down, not wanting to expose any weakness in front of that monster. Peter smiled, the cat who got the cream.

"What's going on? Why aren't you arresting him? Dad? Dad? He's the one who b... who attacked you! He'd a monster... he's a –"

"Werewolf?" His dad interrupted.

Stiles went slack jawed. Behind him Scott approached, eyes flashing yellow and claws extended in a threat he wanted so badly to fulfil. Stiles edged away from his friend knowing he could be unpredictable like this, and carefully observed how his dad's eyes widened as he took in Scott's transformed appearance, but still there was no panic or fear. He knew. He goddamned knew, and Peter was the one to tell him. This was the antithesis of good. It really was. Peter, of course, was as calm as a lake of ice, in fact he rolled his eyes at Scott's implicit threat as if he was a child throwing a tantrum and proceeded to ignore his very presence in the room. No, it was Stiles' face he was watching.

"Peter told me. Everything," his dad said, sounding world weary and tired. So much like himself that Stiles wanted to believe it wasn't him saying these words. But it was undeniable.

"Everything? Really dad, because you seem awfully calm for a man sat next to a murderer who is a mythical creature and just turned you into one at the risk of killing you."

"I don't think it's as uncomplicated as that, son," Sheriff Stilinski said.

Stiles looked away momentarily, his mouth twisting in a grimace. He couldn't believe the words coming out of his father's mouth. His dad, upholder of the law and protector of all that is good and innocent in Beacon Hills was defending a murderer. Stiles knew that Peter could twist things, hell he seemed to have both Scott's mom and even Derek, Derek who's sister had been Peter's victim, believing in his nice guy routine. And now his dad. The only family Stiles had left.

"You're a monster. You should be dead," Scott growled menacingly.

Peter merely sighed. "Sit down, Scott," he said and even Stiles felt the hypnotic charge of his words. Scott looked conflicted but found his way to a seat opposite the Sheriff almost against his own will. Stiles was alarmed. He had never seen a demonstration of the Alpha's power. He'd had no idea just how powerful Peter's will was over those he made. Was that why his dad was pro-murder now? Stiles hoped so with the desperation of a boy on the verge of losing everything he loved, but a small part of him didn't want it to be true because if it was then it meant that his dad was probably lost forever. As was Scott. And Stiles was truly alone. It seemed either way he lost.

The grief must have shown on his face, because in an instant Peter was stood next to his, touching him in a manner that if it had been someone else he would have found comforting. Stiles froze in the embrace and stared into Peter's eyes. The eyes of a murderer, but he didn't look any more insane than anyone you might meet on the street. "It's okay, Stiles. They are still yours, just as much as they are mine," he said.

Stiles shook his head. "I don't understand," he breathed, licking his lips nervously.

Peter's eyes tracked the movement and the room felt thick with tension of another kind. "They are yours, because you are mine."

_a/n: THANKS FOR ALL YOUR COMMENTS! _


	4. Explanations

"Yours?" Stiles squeaked, trying futilely to get free from the Alpha's grip."No, I'm the only one here who isn't your puppet, your play thing, and I don't intend to become one! I refused the bite, Peter, or don't you remember that? I don't want to be yours. I won't be," he was panting, like he had run a marathon, or more likely, like he was in the middle of a panic attack. Which wasn't unlikely when you thought about it. He was losing his family to a psychotic werewolf. He was losing his mind, too.

Peter held on tight, his eyes flashing red in anger. "I remember your lie, and I can hear your lies now. I've told you how pathetic it is to lie to a werewolf, Stiles, I would have thought you capable of remembering that small fact. Careful not to disappoint me," he tutted disapprovingly.

"Or what?" Stiles bit back, "you'll kill me?"

Peter calmed suddenly, and Stiles thought that that was maybe worse. Calm Peter had time to plot and plan. Calm Peter knew things were going his way. In the past none of this had turned out to benefit Stiles, or anyone else. "Don't be ridiculous, Stiles," he informed him, smoothing down the material of his tee and taking his time about it as if he relished the heat from Stiles' skin. "I don't kill what's mine. I cherish it."

The he let go, and Stiles found himself overwhelmingly free. He reached for the nearest surface to hold himself steady as Peter swept out of the door. "I'll expect to see you at the full moon," he said and was gone.

The air tasted bitter, it felt like all the colour in the world was gone and Stiles would never laugh or smile again. Scott visibly calmed once Peter was out of hearing range, but his father sat there, the picture of a dejected man who had given up before the fight had even begun. "Dad..." Stiles began, but he had nothing to ask. What could he say? Please don't leave me? Please don't let Peter hurt me? He was no longer sure where his father's loyalties lay.

"Scott, I think it's time you leave now," the Sheriff said evenly, not looking up from the table in front of him.

Scott glanced at Stiles who nodded. There was nothing his friend could do here. Not now. Scott brushed past him on his way out, a hand patted him briefly in consolation but it made Stiles feel cold and he flinched away from the touch. Scott was gone before he could notice it, and then all there was to deal with was Stiles' dad.

"Come sit down here, son," Stilinski said.

Stiles did so, sitting opposite his dad and trying to make eye contact like if only he could see his dad's eyes he could know if it was really him, if his dad was still his own person or just another pawn in Peter Hale's vendetta against the hunters who had stolen his family from him.

"I know this must be confusing for you, you don't understand why I'm turning my back on human laws or how I could do it so easily... Not that this is easy. It isn't... while I was asleep I saw Peter's memories. I assumed it was just a coma dream until he spoke to me. I felt what he felt, the grief I felt for your mother was multiplied a hundred fold. I didn't think my mind would come out from it complete," his father paused, breathing deeply to take away the memories. Stiles knew his father had been devastated when his mom had died, so this was no easy comparison to make. "Peter told me what it meant, who I am now. I'm not human any more son," he admitted, his voice breaking with unexpressed emotion, "to live my life by their rules would be hypocritical, but that doesn't mean I condone killing of any kind."

"I just want things to go back... at first I thought it was so cool that Scott was a werewolf. Who wouldn't? I was like he had superpowers... but everything has been so screwed up ever since..." Stiles said in a small voice, wishing his dad would say that everything would be okay, and wishing more than anything that he could even believe that.

"Things can't ever go back, son. Not now Peter has claimed you," his father said with a heavy sigh.

Stiles froze. "What? What do you mean 'claimed' me? Do you know something?"

His father nodded, looking old and tired. "Stiles, you're Peter's Claimed Mate. Nothing is ever going to be the same. Ever."


	5. Research

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Stiles wheezed out. He ignored the pained look of shock on his father's face and barged past his out stretched hand towards his bedroom. He wished for the first time for a lock on the door, but settled for shoving the desk against the door, even knowing that it would be entirely ineffective against werewolves who were the very people he was trying to avoid it still made him feel slightly better. Claimed mate? How the fuck had that happened, and what exactly did it mean? Stiles would have thought that the claiming process would have included some sort of official acceptance from him, and he definitely did not except the situation.

He wanted to climb under his covers and pretend none of this was happening, to disappear into a dream world where his best friend had never gotten bitten by a werewolf and started them down this path. Stiles took a deep breath and reminded himself that he wasn't seven years old anymore, it hadn't worked when his mom had died so why would it work now? No, he was an adult, well technically he was an adolescent but basically he was old enough that hiding and wishing wouldn't comfort him even for a moment. No, Stiles needed to arm himself with information.

Three hours later and he wasn't sure if he was any wiser. There were some weird people on line and not all of the sources he had used were exactly trustworthy, he was pretty sure that if a person had a user-name of 'werewolflvrjacobswifeforever' then they probably weren't getting their information from a reputable source. After all if she hadn't even figured out that Jacob Black, who was a fictional character damn it, was a shapeshifter and not a werewolf as many fans were lead to believe in the first three volumes of 'Twilight' then how informative could she actually be?

Basically there were many different lores on werewolf mating. Some lore insisted that werewolves only mated with opposite sex parters of their own species, whereas other text indicated that werewolves could be called bisexual due to the fact that their mating instinct didn't conform to animal mating calls since they could procreate without sexual activity via a bite. Stiles was happy to ignore the first lore as Peter's insistence that Stiles was his mate invalidated it, also the lore was based on the notion that werewolves could only be born not created like Scott had been. Clearly whoever wrote that was either spreading misinformation or basing their knowledge purely on wild wolves or fiction. So, werewolves were basically bisexual. Okay, Stiles could deal with that. He read more on what mating required and how it happened, discovering that it was,according to some sources, to do with compatibility of spirit. Stiles didn't enjoy thinking that his spirit was compatible with Peter's considering the man was a known murderer. A lot of the sources claimed that it was instinctual and uncontrollable, neither side having any choice over who they mated with, and that once the bond was cemented via physical contact of any kind it was permanent, permanent like death not like marriage or permanent marker. One thing that might save him was one source which sounded fairly solid, the author getting the fact that werewolves didn't require the full moon to transform and that alphas were established by a beta killing an alpha, was that because not all humans were bisexual and humans could be bitten and become werewolves, that not all mates were sexual with each other. So yes, Stiles was forever bound to a psychopathic werewolf twice his age but he may retain his virtue. That was the end of the good news though.

Stiles had wanted to be pack, for certain, even if he wasn't sure if he ever wanted the bite despite what Peter inferred, but this was the worst kind of 'be careful what you wish for'.

"Are you calmer now?" Peter's voice interupted his thoughts and Stiles fell off his chair in an attempt to turn around to see the other man and get away from him all at once. His heart was pounding and his mouth was dry as he lay sprawled on the floor staring up at the man who had killed so many.  
>Peter calmly cocked an eyebrow. "I guess not," he said dryly.<p> 


	6. Contact

Stiles watched as Peter paced the width and length of his room, the way the volatile werewolf would touch his belongings, rubbing his fingers together and breathing in a scent that Stiles supposed was a mixture of Peter's own and Stiles. It reeked of intimacy, and Stiles found himself breathing in shallowly on the edge of a panic attack. Peter turned to him, eyes intense and flashing alpha red as he moved towards Stiles and placed a hand over Stiles heaving chest.

"Breath," the man commanded, "in, and out, in, and out. You see, your body wants to obey. I am sure your mind will adapt soon enough."

Stiles pushed Peter away and to his surprise Peter let him. He was now breathing regularly, although his mind was still racing. Exit strategies, lies, and desperate dives for freedom all running through his Adderall deprived brain as he licked his lips anxiously. Peter's eyes tracked the movement. "I'm not a puppy you can train. I'm never going to want to be... be yours," Stiles denied, his voice cracking on the last word.

Peter smiled. "Now you're just trying to fool yourself," he tutted.

"No, I'm not. I have no idea what you think you are reading in my body language or heart beat but you've got it all wrong. I'm not even gay!" Stiles yelled.

"That is such a human simplification of sexuality, and I really did expect more from you after all your research. You did do research, didn't you Stiles? I would hate to have overestimated your curiosity, especially after Scott turned out to be such a disappointment," Peter said, sounding genuinely grieved by this possibility that it tugged at something inside Stiles, like he wanted to win Peter's approval despite what his brain was telling him.

"The literature disagrees on most of the main concepts," he reported.

Peter inclined his head, a small pleased smile replacing the frown on his face. "You must have questions then, about what the truth is."

Somehow Peter was the one who seemed reasonable and open in this encounter, and Stiles was left feeling like he was the one over reacting. This must have been what Scott had felt like when Peter had tried to take his mom out for dinner. Stiles didn't like it, he felt off balance and his insides were twisted up. Still, he had questions and he needed answers, ones that clearly the internet wasn't going to provide. "Why me?" He blurted out, immediately regretting it even as surprise, the first genuine emotion that Peter had portrayed since invading his bedroom, flashed across his face.

"It isn't a conscious choice, although I entirely approve of my inner wolf's choice. You are beautiful, if somewhat unfinished, and incredibly intelligent and bright. I see an amazing future for you Stiles, it's one of the reasons why I would never bite you without your permission," Peter revealed, and that reminded Stiles all over again how Peter had risked his father's life just to prove a point to Stiles.

"No, but apparently it's okay to risk my dad's life?" He asked. Glaring daggers at the other man.

"I was fairly certain that the Sheriff would survive. It also made sense for me to bite him for two reasons. One, as the Sheriff of Beacon Hills he is in a position to be most influential and helpful, and two because he is your father, and you are mine. It is fairly common to bite the family members of human mates. It binds them closely to the Pack."

"That doesn't mean I have to forgive you for endangering my father's life. And what about Lydia? Will she be okay? What was your reason for hurting her?" He demanded, not willing to be swayed by Peter's attitude or reasoning.

"Ah," Peter said, "Lydia. She was... unexpected. Although I must correct an assumption you have made, Stiles. I never meant to hurt her, or your father. I was trying to give them a gift."

"A gift, yeah sure, just one you can't return. Like being mates, is that a gift?" Stiles said bitterly.

The smile Peter gave him sent chills down to his feet. "Perhaps, for myself," he said softly, leaning in close again and crushing his lips against the tender flesh at the base of Stiles' neck. This time a shiver of an altogether different nature ran through him. He hadn't even realised that Peter had gotten so close, and now that he took a look at his place in the room he realised that it wasn't just a case of Peter getting closer so much as both of them had moved to meet in the middle. It was subconscious and somehow that made it all the more worse.

"I thought... I thought that the mate bond didn't have to be sexual?" Stiles said breathlessly.

He felt rather than saw Peter's smile widen to predatory levels. "Now where would be the fun in that?" He asked, and finally his lips found Stiles' and passion exploded.


	7. Seduced

Stiles wanted to say he resisted, that he pushed Peter away and struggled. He wanted to cry rape. But in the end what happened was consensual, if somewhat unexpected. It was like being literally swept away by a tide of passion so intense that you forgot your own name, all you remembered was how good it felt to kiss and touch and caress and, embarrassingly enough, rub. It was just hormones and magic, he tried to convince himself as he lay there with sticky jeans watching as Peter smirked and licked messy fingers. Stiles had cum ridiculously easily and he wondered if it had been the mate bond controlling him, or maybe something else from inside of him. Was he really this man's equal? This murderer's true other half? Could this be where he path led, his journey had started with Scott and him creeping out to a crime scene in the middle of the night before the first day of school, now less than a year later he was sprawled on his bed having just let the same man, werewolf, who killed that victim they'd discovered that night masturbate him. Well, let was sort of the word he was looking for. What kind of person did that make him? And how could be blame Derek, who after all only had Peter left out of all of his family, for taking the murderer's side when Stiles had succumbed so easily, and he was merely human without that werewolf bond.

"You're over thinking it," Peter informed him.

Stiles stared up at him with big wide eyes that still seemed so young and innocent to Peter who had visited the brink of insanity. Did Peter hope that Stiles would be the thing that would bring him back? Or was he trying to drag Stiles down to his depths.

"I thought that was what you lo-liked the best about me," Stiles croaked out, blushing.

Peter's eyes were sharp on him and he moved away from the werewolf defensively. "Sometimes it works against you, Stiles."

Stiles licked his lips nervously and huddled into himself, never taking his eyes off of Peter. "Is that it then? The... bond cemented. Are you... finished with me now?" He asked, and his heart was beating so fast he didn't know what answer would appease him. Everything was topsy turvy, all turned around. Morality seemed a distant concept and it scared Stiles that the short amount of contact had screwed his head up so much.

Peter laughed softly. "No, not completely. It takes a little more contact to seal the bond irrevocably, although even if we never completed the ritual we would always be bonded. Don't think yourself spared just yet. Besides, even if that was everything I needed from you, I would still come back for more. I told you Stiles, you're mine now, and I never let go of the things that are mine. Never."

Stiles shivered, he was scared and he was turned on. He hated himself a little for being unable to resist this pull they had between them. Peter leaned in, kissed him gently like they really were in love, and whispered a parting before he jumped out the window. Immediately Stiles slammed the window shut and locked it, before climbing back in bed. That was when he started shivering uncontrollably. He didn't stop until the morning sun.


	8. Lydia

Lydia

Stiles woke to the sound of his phone ringing, a sharp piercing melody that set of a pounding in his head. The sun outside his window was high in the sky and his clock told him that he must have fallen asleep after sunrise as it was now almost three pm. He wondered where hiss father was, and what he was thinking. Shivering again he picked up his cell.

"Mmmph," he answered incoherently.

"Stiles, I've been calling you all afternoon!" Scott announced excitedly on the other side of the line.

"Why?" He asked.

"Dude, Lydia's awake!" He said, and instantly Stiles forgave him everything and sat up with a jerk in his bed.

"I'm on my way," he said and clicked off without hearing Scott trying to tell him something else.

He scrambled out of bed and ran into the shower, scrubbing his skin quickly under the scalding hot spray. He wasn't thinking about last night or Peter, instead he was concentrating on something positive. Lydia was going to be okay, which kind of meant that Peter hadn't killed anyone innocent. Not that it excused him.

Stiles' head thunked against the tiles. So much for not thinking about Peter.

An hour and a half later he was dressed and at the hospital. He entered the room to see Lydia standing for the first time since the dance. It was such a good sight, for the first time in what seemed like forever he could stop worrying about one of his friends dying. At least, for now.

"Hey, I'm h-" -_appy to see you're alive_. He never finished the sentence, because Lydia moved away from the bed and Stiles saw her suitcase, and secondly he saw Derek. "What the hell are you doing here?" He asked angrily.

Derek glared at him briefly before grasping Lydia's wrist. "I need your help," he growled at her quietly, sounding like the words cost him just to verbalise them. Derek Hale hated to admit that he needed anyone, let alone a teenage human girl. That was of course if Lydia was even human any more?

"I just want to get out of here," she bit back and tore her arm away from Derek's grip. Stiles frowned, either that meant that Lydia was now a werewolf and as strong as Derek, or that Derek wasn't using his whole strength to control her. Ether way there were questions that Stiles thought he deserved answers to, even if no one else did.

"Do you need a ride?" Stiles asked, interrupting the tense silence that had descended while Lydia zipped her suitcase full of cards and stuffed toys that her parents had brought over. He noted however that they were absent now, when she needed them the most. It seemed to be a pattern in her family.

Finally she looked at him, and he saw how much recent events had affected her. She looked tired, and considering she had just been in a coma it was a hard look to pull off. "Yes. I asked Scott to call you. Bring my bag, won't you?" She announced and walked out of the hospital room without a backward glance. Stiles looked, however, and he saw the angry and frustration on Derek's face. It made him almost as curious as scared. He grabbed her bag and caught up with her.

"So, want to talk about it?" He asked as he got behind the wheel of his Jeep.

Lydia sat there tensely. "Just drive," she said, and of course, he did.


End file.
